Black Dawn
by Roaming Sheep
Summary: With the arrival of the cherry blossoms is the birth of an unspoken passion between the young hearts within InuYasha's fellowship. However, with cataclysmic destruction and despair perspiring in the air, how far may their newfound love truly persevere?
1. Chapter I: The Ignorant

Black Dawn  
  
Chapter I: The Ignorant  
  
From the distant mountains arose the sun, looming radiantly before Creation, bestowing it yet another day. Birds, roused from serene slumber, chirped harmoniously, engulfing the land in sweet symphony. Mothers awoke their unwilling children, farmers made preparations for a productive new day, travelers began the continuation of their journeys. All was well and peaceful about the world. It was within the mass's presumption that life would maintain its normality, and that, after another day of play and labor, they would again return to the world of dreams, secure in rest, that one of their greatest faults lie. None could foresee what cataclysmic events awaited them.  
  
Miroku was the first of the band to awaken, finding it his obligatory duty to prepare for the others a hearty breakfast, or at least put forth a sincere effort in the attempt of doing so. It was, in all truth, mainly in favor of the fair Sango that he did this, as multiple other deeds, for he desired more than anything else to redeem himself within her eyes, to repent for what perverse actions he had displayed in the past, and to prove the sincerity of the love he harbored for her.  
  
He approached her hesitantly, captivated by her serene beauty. Kneeling tenderly at her side, he softly pressed his lips upon her cheek, and a slight blush befell both. "Someday, my love," he whispered into her ear in sorrowful lament. "I shall kiss you outside of dream". Then, with a final glance of reverence upon her, he departed into the wilderness to gather the components of their meal.  
  
Much had occurred since the infancy of their journey. A task once seen as impossible had gradually become a daily labor, one that may be accomplished with perseverance and companionship. allies had been attained, enemies had been defeated, lives had been lost, countless battles had been fought, But the prevailing achievement within this tale was of love, the ever- perspiring passion lying within hearts, unspoken. But words were not necessary to express this emotion, for it was mutual, hidden inconspicuously behind timid smiles and reassuring glances.  
  
Yet Miroku found a great multitude of difficulty in restraining this proclamation that he withheld. How could he present to this celestial entity known as Sango his love in a manner of grace and dignity, one that she was truly deserving of? What warmth may his unworthy body provide for her in embrace? What love may he provide for such a boundless heart?  
  
Suddenly, he realized the cynic nature of his thoughts, and quickly discarded them with an optimistic smile. He beheld in awe the path that lie before him, the crimson cherry blossoms hanging vibrantly about, the emerald grass swaying to and fro with each passing zephyr, the vast and bountiful sky that loom overhead. Approaching a nearby tree, he withdrew a cherry, smiling tenderly into it. "Ne'er the beauty of Mother Nature shall surmount to that of my beloved" he proudly proclaimed.  
  
Why, such joy befell him in the bliss of her thought that he ensued in song. His voice was, politely stated, quite rasp, and he sung somewhat under his breath, yet the creatures about managed to deceiver it well, and were enticed by the harmonious melody:  
  
"What is a dove, plucked of its wings, And of the siren that no longer sings? What is a sky without an ocean of blue, And of the promise that is not true?  
  
What is a tree, disposed of its leaves, And of the sunset that one never sees? What is a melody that cannot be heard, And of the bee, separated from bird?  
  
What is a night, deprived of moon, And of the beat, played without tune? What is a garden without its green, And of the beauty that cannot be seen?  
  
What is a life, without its bliss, And of the lips that never have kissed? What is a heart without another to share, And of the love that is not there?"  
  
And so, still in song, he resumed his task with the sole motivation of bringing what happiness he may to the one whom would never return his love. ****************************************************************************  
  
It was with a slight tingling sensation that Sango was stolen from slumber. She sat wearily up, softly caressing where the diminishing feeling had been afflicted. How odd it felt, she thought, this foreign emotion overwhelming her. It was as if the ardor of countless hearts had congregated solely within her cheek, bestowing her a magnificent and unprecedented love, unbound by any time or space. "My dreams," she sighed. "seem to accompany me in wake." Thus it faded, gradually becoming nothing more than a sweet memory.  
  
All seemed well about the camp. The refreshment of morning lifted much burden from her weary soul, the sun's radiance cleansing her of what sorrow she bore pertaining to certain circumstances. It was a time of rebirth, renewal, and opportunity, including that of confession. It was a hidden truth that held a certain affection, even love for the amorous monk, but had successfully withheld behind her stoic rejection. Though this may had worked sufficiently, the weight of guilt and longing depressing her heart grew greater each passing day. Why would a task so easy as expressing her true feelings present itself so difficultly?  
  
Upon this thought, she noticed the absence of the one whom occupied her mind. Gazing upon the abandoned blanket adjacent to the deceased fire, then to the fellowship who still claimed occupation to theirs, she realized that this moment was opportune in putting to rest this troubling burden.  
  
Summoning forth what valor she may, she ventured forth into the wilds of uncertainty, in pursuit of love, repentance, and a man named Miroku.  
  
It must had been hours, she decided, that she had remained in trek. The journey was tiresome and uneventful, yet she absolutely refused to abandon her ambition. She had to express to him her truths while time yet remained, permitting not even the extravagant beauty surrounding her distraction.  
  
It was then that her ears detected a faint voice in the distance. Slowly, she followed it, ever so careful not to alarm its source. With every step she took, her heart grew wild and untamed, pleading to be spoken. She beheld the figure of her longing, her beloved Miroku there upon the path, picking cherry blossoms from an overlooking tree. His tranquil aura and jovial smile set ease to her fluttering heart, seemingly beckoning her from the shadows and into his warm embrace. Though frightened, she approached him with a fierce determination.  
  
"Do you pick cherries?" she bashfully asked, unable to utilize any other words.  
  
"I do," replied he. "The most exquisite in all the land."  
  
"Are they sweet?" she inquired fervently, her breast aflame in intensity.  
  
"Sweet is but a word, and does not suit the eloquence that they are truly deserving of. No tongue may address them within a worthy manner, despite what words of praise they may conceive."  
  
"Are they bountiful?" her will solely concentrated upon containing her passion.  
  
"Bountiful and precise with every spring, awaiting baskets to occupy and stomachs to florish, and if their supply becomes meager, there are always more resting upon the trees."  
  
She gazed longingly into his eyes, softly weeping in joy. With each tear trickling down her blushing cheeks, her heart was converging with his.  
  
"May I have one?" she choked.  
  
"All that I may offer." he, too, now engaging in tears.  
  
He whisked her into his arms, sweeping her soul from the confines of despair and into the bliss of Paradise itself. It could not be counted how many hardships they wreaked upon each other, how many sorrows their silence had delivered, how many words they desired to say, but none were no longer needed, for she was, and would forever remain, tenderly within his arms. All seemed well and peaceful about the world. 


	2. Chapter II: The Damned

Chapter II: The Damned  
  
It was an arguably unproductive day in the labor fields, especially considering the bountiful season it was. The incandescence of the midday sun was relentless, beating upon the parched farmers without foreseeable mercy. Sweat drizzled like a tenacious shower down their weary bodies, the percussion of sickles and scythes sounding in harmonious rhythm. Clink clank, clink clank. It was a unified motion, performed mechanically by their bodies without an underlying consciousness. No words were spoken, no ideas exchanged, no emotions were expressed, save the stillborn droning of their rustic tools. Clink clank, clink clank.  
  
Though it was never said, a certain unease had recently befallen the laborers, an inexplicable perturbation which they silently withheld in the most intimate recesses of their minds. It was as if a league of omnipresent eyes kept diligent watch upon them, following their every movement with meticulous intent. They had attempted upon numerous occasions in desperation to evade their unseen audience, yet only an anxiety was roused through struggle.  
  
Then there were the voices. Initially unintelligible whispers, they were gradually formulating into words. Louder and louder they grew, and with their perpetuating volume, the language became heretical, ungodly, horrific in the greatest multitude possible. Though varying diversely from infants to the elderly, they all maintained a vulgar ferocity and profane persistence that only a taskmaster of nightmares may convey.  
  
The men could no longer contain their dismay, and, seemingly simultaneously, a great bellow of agony engulfed the air in grievous unison, one more wretched and depraved than even the woebegone shrieks echoing eternally through the voluminous bowels of Hell. Then, as if beckoned by an unbeknown force, their eyes were directed into the east, where they beheld the approaching source of their torment.  
  
As the specters drew nearer, their extramundane frames became evident before the awestricken onlookers. Their structure was vast, measuring several feet in diameter, enveloped in countless shimmering scales of radiant aquamarine. They hadn't in their possession any arms or legs, yet such limbs were redundant, and would burden their swift and elegant flight. Great ovoid eyes of carmine fixated themselves upon the terrified farmers, the violet pupils containing a reflection embodying the very avatar of horror.  
  
Overwhelmed with fright, the men cast their weapons blindly into the approaching phantasms, fully knowing the futility of their efforts, yet choosing to disregard it in this moment of desperation. Now, discarded of their only defense and presented no other alternative, they fled with inhuman haste through the dirt-laden acres in a frantic endeavor to elude their pursuers, but it was already too late. The wraiths' declination had begun, advancing upon their vulnerable pray in one fell swoop. The men's hearts palpitated as swiftly as the wind generated by the pursuing ethereal beings, seemingly striving to surpass their vassals. It was not fear that was absolute; rather, it was the necessity to survive that dominated their consciousness. All other senses were stifled in the wake of the impeccable desire to live, to awaken upon another day and to be enticed by slumber upon another night. "Faster, faster, you mustn't halt!" their souls demanded their fatigued bodies. The glacial vice of death loomed overhead, drawing nearer, and nearer, and, at the climax of their flight, there arrived the most unnerving of manifestations that their fears may conceive.  
  
Silence. Utter, perpetual silence, broken only by the writhing of hearts and trepidation of breathes. Despite the abundance of dread engulfing them, the terrified men found themselves scanning the area with an unquenchable inquisitiveness. The scene was too still to have been disturbed, too serene to had been interrupted, too pure to have been plagued by the atrocity of sin which those vile creatures had wreaked. Had they been forsaken? Had the Kami shown mercy to their helpless children?  
  
As if in response to this unsubstantiated optimism, a brilliance of light illuminated behind them, dethroning the sun in its sheer magnificence. They cowered to the ground, drawing their trembling hands over their unwilling eyes in disbelief of their imminent doom. They quivered like insects basked within the ominous shadow of an aloft foot, weeping, fasting, striving with all their enduring will to escape the moment, to escape themselves.  
The voices! They had returned in abundant succession, besieging existence itself, prodding incessantly at their most intimate fears. "Infestation. Curse. Affliction. Plague. Outbreak. Scourge. Pestilence. Disease." the infants jabbed. "Immorality. Evil. Sin. Tainted. Lie. Wicked. Rape. Villain. Deflower." the women pierced. "Damned. Hell. Vile. Atrocious. Infernal. Knave. Wanton. Blood. Crimson. Death." the men penetrated. "Agony. Woe. Remorse. Lament. Grieve. Lost. Unfelt. Alone. Longing." the elderly cleaved.  
  
Deeper. The dirk of mortality bore itself into their essence, shredding them, hacking them, reducing them to reminiscence of a nonexistence. Closer. The men felt their breath deteriorating, the malfunction and ultimate failure of their lungs. Everything was the darkness, and the darkness was their adversary. Within. The voices emitted a horrendous uproar that could only be distinguished as laughter.  
  
Those brief moments seemed like a time insurmountable by eternity itself, embodying callous and unrelenting agony. How they jested so! It was hell in its absolute. The mortals could no longer endure and renounced their struggle against the inconspicuous oppressors, fasting for death before the very gods that, only a few moments previous, had begged for life (How amusing the voices must had found Man's incomprehensible nature!).  
  
Then, as they stood upon the brink of demise and the apex of existence, a rapturous voice, like the plucking of a seraphic harp, transcended the chaos and bid silence. There was an abrupt obedience. Even the men paid instantaneous submission to the requisition. So delightful a sonority, so magnificent a resonance! "O, fair Angel of Death, beguiling nightingale, lead us unto any land or soul blessed by thou eyes!" the men proclaimed in obscurity.  
  
"To InuYasha." the seductive seraphim beckoned.  
  
"Yes, to InuYasha!" they affirmed, knowing not of whom she spoke of, yet confiding unwaveringly within her summons.  
  
And so it was that, in the adumbration of humanity, they marched forth, with every step becoming undistinguishable amongst the immeasurable ranks of voices. 


	3. Chapter III: The Journey

Chapter III: The Journey  
  
Daybreak. The hospitable streams of the sun's rays enshrouded InuYasha's cheeks, sweltering them in wholesome warmth. Like ethereal hands bidding wake to his consciousness, the dawn's incandescence shone crimson through his eyelids. Stubbornly, he lifted himself from the ground and speared his fingers against his curtained eyes. Allowing an ample yawn and scanty tears, he drew forth an obscure view of his surroundings.  
  
A sky of amethyst lie overhead, christened with fuchsia clouds whirling gracefully about. Below rested a field of blooming wildflowers, waltzing in the gentle zephyr of the doting wind. In the distance was a precipice overlooking an azure sea, gleaming with the reflection of a virgin sun.  
  
There, sitting upon the edge of the cliff overseeing the oceanfront was Kagome, glimmering radiantly in glorious mortality. She rested in a coarse yet magnificent nudity, her beige skin luminescent with youth. Her ebony hair rippled like a rivulet of shadow down her vivacious breasts. She bore an expression of longing within her swarthy eyes, a look conceivable only by the wondrous abyss by which they were presently captivated.  
  
So majestic a fervor this invoked within his heart, setting aflame his senses and tantalizing the very essence of his being. Exotic emotions engulfed his stomach, inflated his fingers, overwhelmed his toes, flooded his spine, and consumed his lips. It was then that the two's eyes converged, and, under the vast morning sky and in the cascading breeze that their existence became one.  
  
Roused to his feet, he ran to her, whisked by the intense desire to bask in her feminine ardor. So clear it was now, the enigma of life, the paradox of being, the intricacy of reason, consumed within the starless infinity of her eyes. Yes! Uproarious silence, inscrutable answer! Never were words spoken so clearly by man, nor woman through the profound silence of Kagome's heart.  
  
InuYasha ran, faster and faster, each step salvaged with twice as much haste as the last. The cycle of time seemed to move in accordance to his advance. With his traverse hailed new entities of the sun, from the crisp prelude of morning, the intervening body of afternoon, to the hindmost epilogue of twilight. The flowers blossomed, their petals extending, prospering, and, alas, withering into the awaiting wind, in which they glided to the prong of existence.  
  
"InuYasha!" she beckoned, softly gesturing him forth.  
  
"Kagome!" he cried in reply, drawing ever nearer.  
  
The cycle had completed conversion into night. All that had even once bore a remnant of luminosity was now but an obscuration of shadow. Even the aloft moon, notorious for its majestic charm, transmitted a languid saffron hue.  
  
"InuYasha!" she again summoned, his arrival now imminent.  
  
There, upon the brink of their meeting, it was that Kagome's face contorted, her visage metamorphosing into a manifestation of unfathomable repugnance. It churned like a whirlpool of flesh and facial appendix, causing a surge of vomit to rise within his throat in revolt. He watched in horror as the moon transfigured itself into a ruby goliath, casting a scarlet complexion upon the sea below. His heart pulsated with apprehension, violently quaking his chest.  
  
"Kagome! What has become of you?" he tremulously inquired.  
  
"InuYasha!" the distortion of a voice bellowed, echoing the unwavering response.  
  
Her face was progressively regaining a distinct profile. A glossy porcelain nose, two abysmal coal eyes, glistening rubescent lips. It almost resembled - Nay! It was -  
  
"Kikyo!" he wailed, roused from a now apparent slumber.  
  
There, but a few meager feet afar, stood the priestess. Abreast of her were two men, both of whom bore an uncanny likeness to recently exhumed cadavers. They were attired in blood drenched rags and armed with corroded kamas. Their eyes were deprived of pupils, merely milky spheroids laden with burgundy veins. The taller of the two bound one arm firmly around Kagome's abdomen, while his other hand veiled her mouth. The other man stood attentive, his kama poised upon her neck.  
  
"I bid you good morning, InuYasha. Did you sleep well?" she asked, an evident hint of arrogance in her tone.  
  
"You bitch! Release Kagome this very instant!" he commanded, palming the hilt of his blade.  
  
Kikyo broadened her arm and outstretched her index finger, waving it to and fro in a hindering gesture.  
  
"Tch, tch, tch. What a bad boy you are, calling a lady such a filthy name! I think your little outburst is deserving of some disciplinary action."  
  
She turned to face the men. With the snap of her fingers, the kama's brim moderately grazed Kagome's neck, inducing a stream of blood, which her tormentor licked off with a grimace of wanton delight. The girl writhed in anguish, emitting a muffled shriek of dismay. The half-breed gnarled as the distress of his beloved cleaved through his very heart.  
  
"Now, now, InuYasha. Control your spasms, or I fear my minions shall have to aid in her journey to hell. Do you understand?"  
  
Aware of the present hazard, he yielded to her threat with reluctance.  
  
"Tell me. Tell me what it is that you are planning." he asked, his voice both abidingly solemn and quivering with apprehension.  
  
The miscreant priestess smirked in amusement.  
  
"Why, I am but contributing to a cause far greater than I, ushering in a new era of destitution and suffering." she vaingloriously proclaimed.  
  
Frustrated, InuYasha examined the area for the remnants of his other allies, but his endeavor met to no avail.  
  
"I hate to disappoint you, dearest InuYasha, but your friends cannot come to your aid. The fox demon and the feline are unconscious within the caravan and the others are being apprehended as we speak. You have no escape."  
  
"How did you know where we were?" he snarled, grinding his teeth fiercely.  
  
She directed his attention to the abroad shadows, from which a figure presently stepped forth. An expansive ebon ponytail, tawny wolf fur, cutthroat cerulean eyes. It was unmistakable. The traitor was Koga.  
  
Submerged in overwhelming rage, InuYasha drew his blade. He cocked himself into combat position, but Kikyo thwarted his aspirant slaughter.  
  
"Do you not remember last time? The girl's life depends solely upon your cooperation." she cautioned, finding an apparent gratification in his defeated position.  
  
Repressed by intimidation, he sheathed his weapon. With an expression of absolute abomination and perplexity, he questioned the treasonist.  
  
"Why? What have you done this, Koga!?" he impetrated.  
  
The wolf was silent, gazing at the ground below in reproach, deterring himself from his former comrade's gaze. Finding the circumstance to her favor, Kikyo seized the opportunity to reply to InuYasha's inquiry with a detestable delight.  
  
"He was promised Kagome's body. A sexy little slab of meat to have and to hold until it's all worn out. Isn't it romantic?" she chuckled in retrospect.  
  
Kagome's eyes dilated in dismay, peering toward InuYasha in desperation and terror, expecting wholeheartedly his imminent revolt, but he spoke not a word. He simply stared into the abyss, devoid of outward expression. The maelstrom of conflicting emotions within his heart must had counterbalanced each other, resulting in the demise of any sentimentality that he once bore.  
  
"It appears that you finally realize the futility of your rebellion. Now," she withdrew two strands of rope and a stave of tape from her kimono, presenting them to him. "Bind and gag your love."  
  
He ogled the utensils, accepting them with indifference into his grasp, then stoically approached his adored. The automaton released Kagome as she convulsed in helplessness. "What could InuYasha be plotting? Why is he doing this?" she contemplated pessimistically.  
  
He advanced upon her, his each step encumbered with insufferable gravity, her each breath immersed in mystification and dread. At last, he overcame her, situating himself to her rear. He received her hands within his and commenced securing the rope around her wrists. Her bondage fastened, he then careened his head upon her shoulder, pressed his lips tenderly upon her ear, and conveyed the following words of encouragement:  
  
"Don't worry. Everything will be just fine. Trust me."  
  
She smiled with faint assurance as he enshrouded her mouth. His labor complete, InuYasha permitted the eidolons to restrain him. With both lovers bound, Kikyo's serfs slung them over their shoulders, trajected them to an awaiting carriage, and turbulently discharged them into a sheaf of hay. InuYasha obtained one final glimpse of his precious' visage before being cudgeled in the back of the head by one of his aggressors, resulting in his loss of orientation and ultimate unconsciousness. Kagome screeched and strained feebly shortly before the same fate became of her.  
  
Kikyo mounted the conducting steed as her underlings boarded the freight alongside their captives. She cued with the beckoning of her hand for the commencing of the caravan's traverse. Four wagons materialized from the umberage of the trees, a pair occupying either side of Kikyo's lead. Embedded in each were the remaining subordinates of the dark priestess, each toting the latest model of European Snaphaunce. Enshrouded in the beds of straw, they awaited anxiously the imminent departure. At last, the anticipated whistle reverberated through the thickets, and the clatter of hooves initiated. The pilgrimage into oblivion had begun, a journey into doubt, lament, and anguish.  
  
(Note: The Snaphaunce is a firearm that first appeared around the year 1570 and was mostly utilized by the English, French, and Germans. It is a predecessor to the Flintlock, which was developed in 1612, and is a smoother, less expensive version of the Wheel Lock.) 


End file.
